


Handle With Care

by emers43



Category: Kings (TV 2009), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Crossover, Drinking, Drug Use, Homophobia, M/M, Old Peggy Carter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Harm, Winter Soldier Bucky, additonal tags to come, some genetic modifications
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emers43/pseuds/emers43
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is hard, coming home can be harder...especially when you're the Prince with no memory of your past. James Barnes was held captive by Hydra for eight months, even fighting for them for two months. He remembers nothing of that time outside of a few flashes of memories. The metal arm is a constant reminder of what he's done against his people and the weight of it is almost to hard to bear as he rediscovers himself, thankfully he doesn't have to do this alone/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first Stucky fic (and first post on AO3 so if there's anything I'm doing wrong, please let me know! (I'm just rolling with it really)) This story is a crossover of the Captain America movies (but not much), the NBC show Kings (I highly recommend you watch), and does take some aspects of Political Animals. Bucky embodies Jack Benjamin as well as TJ Hammond. Since I literally cannot imagine Bucky as Bucky Benjamin, the Benjamins are now the Barnes family.  
> Bucky is going to be called James for some time in this story (it's important, I swear)  
> WARNING: James does recall trying to remove his arm (it's brief, but I don't want anyone caught off guard or triggered)  
> Other than that, I can't think of anymore notes to place here so please enjoy.

There’s rarely a silent moment in war. Gunfire surrounds the troops almost every moment, bombs and tanks explode every so often. and at night, when the weapons sit silently at ready, the soft moans of the wounded can be heard. Select men from the 107th infantry are able to hear the cries of the wounded as they move about the darkness, silently signalling one another. Under the command of Sergeant Major James Barnes, the seven men were to take down the weapons supply within the Gath base. This is nothing the men had not done before, although typically more of the 107th joined the fight. It had been a tactical choice to have a small team strike the camp with air support ready at a moment’s notice.

Corporal Clint Barton quickly checks enemy territory over, skillfully taking out two guards with headshots. The archer waits a moment to see if anyone else is going to come. When no one does, he signals to James that it was safe to proceed. Various signals pass back and forth before the group moves forward; slowly so that there is less risk. The darkness was their ally, but also their enemy as visibility is cut down. He makes out Clint retrieving his arrows, making the hairs on the back of James’s neck begin to stand on end; he realizes there should be more than the two dead guards. The team should at least see some standing or patrolling nearby, but there’s no one in sight. The Sergeant Major places a hand up, signalling quickly for everyone to hide and listen for the enemy. The silence they are met with is unnerving.

With a deep breath, the team marches on, taking mental notes of everything what little they can make out in the darkness Upon reaching the door to the weapons pavilion, the group stands at the ready while Pietro picks the lock. The metal gives a soft click as the combination is cracked, allowing the team to set it aside. Silently, Sergeant Major James Barnes counts down from three before bursting through the door only to cause all Hell to break loose as a bomb within the building is triggered.

The world is lit bright orange before turning black as guns fire.

 

When James comes to, the world is a blur. All he can make out is the color red, it’s unnaturally everywhere. His body feels heavy while somehow feeling as though it weighs nothing at all. He can’t keep coherent thought so he doesn’t think that this could be due his injuries, whatever they might be. Despite being overwhelmed by pain, he does register that he’s being dragged along, so he tries to look around. He fights through his foggy vision while trying to remain still. He can make out a figure in white, although he can’t make out anything more. He pushes himself, only to see the white has splashes of red on it.

Red, red, so much red, where is it coming from? The question just goes through his mind as his head flops to the side to see even more red, his arm is completely red. His vision is starting to go again, making him fight through it again until he can see just what’s happened to him. His arm isn’t covered in red, his blood is pouring out of what little remains of the arm. His heart starts to race, making things that much worse until he blacks out once more.

\--------- 

James wakes with a jolt, sweat dripping down his forehead. He frantically looks around the room, reminding himself that he’s home; he’s not at war anymore, or rather, he’s not on a battlefield anymore. There were days that being the King’s son felt like war. James clutches his cotton sheets, trying to focus on how soft it felt around him. He continues taking deep breathes. trying to ground himself back into reality. The next step is always the hardest. Slowly, he glances down at his left shoulder to see the glint of silver metal in the darkness.

His right hand shakes as he lets go of the sheets in order to rest on the joint of skin and the titanium alloy arm. The skin is scarred, leaving it slightly rough and bumpy. He moves his hand downward, felling each groove of metal that allowed for natural movement. The arm is cool under his touch, even though the internal wiring does give off heat at times. He guides his flesh down to the metal fingers, causing them to move slightly at the touch. It’s odd how the arm responds as though it were his own flesh, even when he couldn’t feel anything except extreme pressure on the metal since that would mess with the wires. He’s not really sure how it works, he doesn’t even remember the Gath group known as Hydra giving it to him. He remembers nothing beyond seeing the trail of his blood as he was dragged away. He gets occasional blurs of memory, such as waking up to see his hands and a scientist leaning over him, studying him.

According to the stories he’s heard, James, Clint, and Pietro were the only three to survive their time with Hydra. Each had been through some sort of torture, although to this day James has no idea what any of them have endured. He knows he was given the arm, as well as enhanced strength and speed. In the eight months spent in Hydra captivity, James was forced to fight for Gath for two months under some sort of brainwashing; no one really explained it to him. When Gilboa troops discovered the Hydra soldier, known as The Winter Soldier, was the Prince, their mission became bringing him home to Shiloh. Reportably, learning who he was was all it took to break much of the brainwashing, even though most of his time before Hydra is still a blur too. With what little bit of himself regained, James had demanded to return to save Clint and Pietro, regardless of what everyone said. He fought for a month to get to them.

That was a month ago, but James remembers nothing. He doesn’t remember leading troops to the Hydra base or bringing both of his friends to the hospital to be looked over. He doesn’t remember his own exams after a surviving Hydra scientist revealed what they’d done to the three men! Nothing about the situation makes sense, it just seems so unreal. His life are a blur, leaving him to have to believe what people told him about himself.

Glancing at the time, James realizes his father would be downstairs preparing breakfast before the family was to visit wounded soldiers that had returned home, including Pietro and Clint. With his friends in mind, James pulls on a t-shirt before moving throughout the mansion, following the smell of eggs, and admiring the decor along the way. James a fair amount of memories of his mother, Queen Rose, so he knows she was the one to acquire everything to make this their home and that she sometimes cared for him but most of the time she was cold and calculating. “Morning,” a rough voice snaps James out of his thoughts and causes him to jump slightly before he looks over to his father preparing the eggs.

“Morning,” James replies casually as he takes a seat.

“Good morning, sir,” the King corrects.

“Sorry, sir,” James says quickly and notes the tension leave Silas. James quickly averts his eyes from the dark haired man and opts to pretend to read the paper. He has few memories of his father, all of which involve some sort of ridicule, and it leaves a knot in the younger male’s stomach every time the King is present.The clearest memory James has of his father is his father telling him he would not be the next King as he was now, not that James even knows when “now” was or how he was “now”.

 

James jumps again as the eggs are placed in front of him, making him set aside the paper aside. Silas says nothing, going back to make another plate just as Rebecca, James’s younger sister, enters the room. Rebecca is the only member of the family that James doesn’t have a negative vibe for. He remembers she was the only one to properly see him off before he left for battle. She smiles at him, bidding both him and their father good morning. Silas returns the smile, bringing her a plate and places a kiss on her forehead. “You look lovely,” he praises, looking at the knee-length pastel dress with a sweetheart neckline.

“Thank you,” Rebecca replies before starting to eat.

“You’ll have to help your brother look decent,” Silas continues as he sits at the table. “Make sure that thing is covered.”

James can’t help but flinch at the disgust directed at him. It wasn’t his fault he had the arm. Hell, he tried to remove it himself a week after he returned home. He took as much pain medication as he could and went down to the room his mother set aside for any future studies or repairs on the arm. He’d tried so fucking hard to rip it out using various machinery, though he didn’t understand most of it. He’d tried so fucking hard not to scream as the metal cut at his skin, but otherwise didn’t budge. He ignored the blood coming from his arm and lip from biting his lip. One of the guards found him, and quickly called for help while James cried in pain and failure.

Rebecca must note the distress on his face as she quickly answers and redirects the conversation, “Yes sir, this is going to be the first time we visit the hospital since my health care plans passed, everything will be at it’s best.”

The King says nothing. Reportably, Rebecca had spent months trying to get their father to pass a health plan that would extend benefits to more people. It had been her passion to help the people the way she had been helped when she fell ill years ago. James remembers visiting her in the hospital, how pale she’d been as if Death was slowly removing her from the world, starting with her rosy cheeks. He stops thinking about it and tried to finish his food.

“May I be excused?” he asks once the plate is empty.

“Go,” Silas orders. “Either wear your dress uniform or a suit. Rebecca will be there to make sure you are presentable once you are finished.”

“Yes sir,” James turns away, retreating to his private bathroom. He takes a hot shower, trying to relax himself, this was going to be his first time out of the house since his return. He’s unsure what to expect, a mob demanding his punishment for not having support on the mission that landed him in Hydra captivity and lead to two months of killing his own people? His father may have controlled the media, but there had been stories that the Prince was The Winter Soldier and was a victim of brainwashing; his father couldn’t stop the people from hating him. They would probably only ever see him as a killer, especially with the constant reminder.

He glances down at the metal attached to his body. The only decent thing about it was that it was water resistant, allowing him to bathe as normal when he wanted, but that in no way makes up for the destruction he had caused with it. The red star was supposedly added at his request before he went to rescue Clint and Pietro, but he has no idea why he’d ask for such a thing. It didn’t make him hate the less, if anything all the red did was make him think of all the blood. The metal hand clenches into a fist at the thought, James has to stop himself from doing anything more. He steps out of the shower and towels off quickly.

Once dry, he moves to get his dress uniform and puts it on slowly, unsure if he truly wants to wear this. He doesn’t feel he deserves to wear something with so much meaning, with so many medals and a fresh patch that displayed his promotion to Major, a promotion that meant he would never have to be back on the front lines. He combs through his hair, only looking at himself in the mirror once finished. He looks decent enough, he can’t do anything about the dark circles underneath his blue eyes. He reminds himself of a zombie.

“James, are you all set?” Rebecca’s soft voice calls to him from outside the door.

“Yeah,” he sighs. His sister enters the room slowly, hoping not to startle him. She’s the only one who notices how jumpy he gets, she’s the only one who cares if she triggers any sort of memory; that’s why she no longer knocks before entering a room he’s in.

“You look good,” she tells him as her green eyes look him over. “Can I make one adjustment to your hair?” She waits for her brother to nod before reaching up and brushing the brown locks to the side a bit more. “There,” she smiles.

“Thank you,” James sighs.

“You’re nervous,” Rebecca notes, taking a seat on the bed. She pats the spot next to her, but James makes no move to sit beside her. “Come on, sit down, please.” When he does so, she gently takes his flesh hand. “No matter what goes on today, you will get through. Just do your best to ignore Dad and Mom today. You get to see your friends today and I’m sure they’re excited to see you too. You’ve always got me, you know that?”

“Yeah,” a small smile forms on James’s face.

“Good! You and I are taking our own car to the hospital, i convinced Dad that it was best for the two of us to try sneaking in so you wouldn't have to deal with all the media just yet.”

“Thank you.”

“We can go whenever you feel ready.”

“Let’s get it over with,” James gently squeezes her hand before standing up. He grabs a pair of gloves and pulls them on, hiding his metal hand. The siblings make their way silently to the black Mercedes Benz, quickly settling into the back seat and drawing the curtains on the windows shut. The drive is silent, and James tries not to think too much.

“Ready?” Rebecca asks as the car comes to a stop.

James says nothing as he steps out, keeping his head down. Rebecca is quickly at his side as they head inside. A flash makes James look up to see there are a few cameras there, snapping photos. He knows he should smile and play it cool, so he tries until it gets to be too much for him. He stares at the ground until they’re inside the hospital.

A doctor quickly approaches them, quickly explaining how lovely it is to have the royal family visiting and how Rebecca’s health plan has helped so many people while also causing a need for more room and help. James follows the two around, not paying attention until he hears the doctor mention Pietro. “Can I see him?” he asks quickly.

“Of course, right this way,” the doctor leads them down a hallway and gestures to a room on the right.

“Do you want to be alone with him?” Rebecca asks.

“Yeah, you go ahead and see all the good you’ve done for the people,” James tries to smile, but he’s just now realizing how nervous he is to see his friend again. What was Pietro going to be like now? What if he hated James now?

Rebecca nods and walks off, continuing her chat with the doctor. James takes a deep breath before entering the room. Instantly silver-blue eyes settle on him. “About time you son-of-a-bitch,” Pietro says and James vaguely recalls Pietro saying the same thing to him when he’d been rescued. He doesn’t focus on the memory as he takes a seat at the bedside.

“Would have come sooner if they would have let me,” James defends himself.

“I know, they barely let Wanda in for visits, but she’s also coming later today.”

“Good, otherwise I’d have to give the doctors a talking to. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I’m ready to get out of this fucking bed! You better take me out for a party like the old days, yeah? I have to see how the ladies respond to a young silver-fox.”

“You’re going to keep the gray hair?”

“I asked the doctors to try to dye it back, but it wouldn’t change. I don’t know what those fuckers did, but at least it doesn’t look back. Don’t go kissing me now!”

James can’t disagree, somehow Pietro pulls off the look. “Me kiss you? You wish,” James teases. For the first time since coming home he feels somewhat like himself joking around like this, but he has a serious question that he has to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my Prince.”

“Do you....do you remember anything?”

Pietro looks away, staring down at his the white sheets of the hospital bed. “Bits and pieces. I remember needles, and pain, lots of pain. I could hear you and clint from time to time, usually screaming. It should have been horrible to hear you scream, but it was almost a relief to know you were still alive, you know? How is Clint?”

James heart clenches, he thought not remembering was terrible, but Pietro could recall the pain and the screams, and those screams had been something that relieved him. It wasn’t normal, but he understood. He takes a deep breath, “I haven’t been to see him yet, but I’m sure he’s alright no matter what they did to him.”

“I’m sure. Now I have to ask, what do you remember?”

“Pretty much nothing. I remember an explosion and gunfire before blacking out, I remember a scientist dragging me away, and I sort of remember waking up to see my metal hand. It’s all a blur.”

“Metal hand? They gave you a metal hand?”

“No, my entire left arm is metal.”

“No fucking way.” Slowly James removes his left glove, revealing that he wasn’t lying. “Holy shit,” Pietro looks at it with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” the metal is quickly hidden under the glove again. “It’s really fucking crazy. It responds like it’s still flesh. I don’t understand it at all, but it’s there. I’m stronger and faster too.”

“So I wasn’t the only one they experimented on,” Pietro says, his eyes glaze over as he thinks about his time spent being a lab rat. James waits for him to return to the real world, not wanting to startle his friend.Pietro nervously wets his lips before speaking with a shaky voice, “I don’t think the doctor’s wanted me to know. They thought I was asleep or something. Whatever Hydra did to me...it made my metabolism faster, and I can heal faster to an extent, or at least I’ve recovered from this faster than I should have. Do you think that’s possible? It can’t be fucking possible.”

James wishes he could say something like: No, the doctors were just trying to think of reasons why you’ve recovered so well. He can’t do that though, he can’t lie to Pietro,. “Some people heal remarkably fast, and who knows what Hydra put into your system; at least it’s being helpful. I don’t know, man, everything is kinda fucked up. We got each other though.”

“Yeah,” the silver haired male nods. “It’s not like I’ve got superpowers or anything.”

“You are a hero though,” James tries to smile.

“Yeah, and-” Pietro stops talking and looks over at the door, causing James to do the same.

“Sorry-I, uh, I don’t know you’d be here. I didn’t mean to interrupt, so sorry!” Wanda says quickly, from the doorway. James can’t help but feel amused at how surprised and apologetic she looks as she stares at them with wide brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, you guys are family. I can leave you two alone and go see Clint.” James stands, offering his seat.

“Are you sure? You two have-”

“It’s alright,” he cuts her off knowing she’d continue about not wanting to trouble them for another five minutes if he let her. He looks back at Pietro, “I’ll stop back to let you know how Clint’s doing.”

“Thank you. It was good seeing you again,” Pietro smiles.

“Good seeing you too,” James returns the smile. He heads for the door, only to stop before leaving, “Oh, and as for taking you out like the old days, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

Pietro’s smile turns into a smirk at this, “You’d better.”

With that said, James leaves the room, only then realizing he has zero clue where Clint is in the hospital. He assumes he can’t be too far away, it was unlikely the hospital would put the Hydra captives far apart. He moves around the hallway, feeling ridiculous as he does so. Thankfully, Clint is just two doors down. “Clint?”

“No, your mom,” Clint says without looking at him, a smile already forming on his face.

“Did you really just say that?”

“You bet I did and you’ve missed hearing me say that sort of thing, don’t even deny it.”

“You’ve got me there,” James confesses as he takes a seat.

“You see Piet yet?”

“Yeah, he’s good, already wants to go out and party.”

“Does he have any side effects from Hydra?” Clint asks so casually it surprises the prince.

“Yeah, his hair is permanently silver, he can heal faster, but his metabolism is quicker now too apparently. What about you?”

“I’ve got a few scars, and these,” Clint gestures to both of his ears, making James notice the hearing aids for the first time. “Even with these it can be hard to hear,” Clint continues before switching into sign language, “Good thing thing we learned sign language for missions and I have a basic understanding of lip reading.”

“You want me to sign everything? My sign language is crap,” James signs back.

“Nah, since there isn’t much noise here you’re fine. Are you really fine though?”

“That’s a terrible way to ask me what Hydra did.”

“But you understood that so well,” Clint smiles. James tells Clint about his arm and how he remembers practically nothing, and Clint listens intently, nodding along as though this were a story about seeing a really hot person or something. He even stays composed when James shows off his metal hand. Clint has an amazing ability to remain casual in almost any situation, it made him a good soldier and a perfect archer.

“It’s weird how well you’re handling seeing this,” James waves his hand, “I thought Piet’s were going to pop out!”

“I’ve accepted that none of this makes since. All we can do now is try to live with it.”

“Wise words.”

“I’m wise from time to time.”

“You can be such a father figure when you get wise, that’s why it’s so fun to get you drunk,” James teases.

“Well, like Pietro said, take us for a night out when you’re up for it.”

“I will,” James promises, covering his hand once again. “Might be good to get out again, being home is getting to me.”

“I’d rather be home than here,” Clint gestures to the hospital room. It was a nice room, but spending a month in it would drive anyone insane.

“I know, you’ll get home as soon as the doctors clear you. My father will probably have a whole story about it when he gets here if he’s not already outside talking to the press.”

“He probably is,” Clint nods. “Probably telling the media about how it was by the Grace of God that his son and two best friends survived.”

“I can just hear the bullshit speech in my head.” The King was a big speech giver, and the people usually seemed to love it. “I should see if he and Mother are here yet.”

“If they are, keep them away from my room!” Clint says quickly

“I’ll try my best, but you know how they are: have to get what they want. I’ll see you again soon man, maybe even tonight since your release should be celebrated.”

“Damn right,” Clint grins, making James laugh as he leaves the room. He stops back to give Pietro and update before allowing the siblings to be alone again. The hospital is incredibly busy, with doctors going every which way to do what they had to do. The chaos makes him a little nervous, but also grateful; no one can react to his presence in any way shape or form. Apparently, James should have knocked on wood since a moment later, as he searches for any member of the Barnes family, he spots a short blond male looking at him with wide blue eyes. All the Prince can think is, oh shit, as he stands motionless in the hallway watching the other’s reaction. He notes the rapid rise and fall of the small man’s chest that steadily increasing until he breaks down coughing.

James watches as the coughing man fumbles through his pockets. He knows he should do something, but he can’t believe the scene unfolding in front of him. A woman in a nurse’s uniform rushes toward the coughing male, helping dig through his pockets until she pulls out what appears to be an inhaler. A knot forms in James’s stomach as he quickly walks away. He was such a fucking monster that he caused the poor guy to freak out that much. He watches the floor as he goes, just managing to avoid people as he does. Only when a familiar voice calls to him does he look up to see Rebecca giving him a worried look while his parents stare at him with the usual disapproval. “How are the guys?” Rebecca asks as he joins the family.

“They were good, ready to get out of here. I’m taking them out for a night on the town.”

“Is that wise?” the Queen asks

“We want the people to think I’m me, then I need to be me,” James says, trying to cover the irritation in his tone. “They deserve to be out a celebrating their survival and release from this place.”

“So be it,” his father sighs before returning his attention to the doctor in the room. For the rest of the day, the Prince stays silent unless directly addressed by someone. None of this really pertained to him, though he did try to listen to some of the soldiers speak. Thankfully, none of them were here at his hand. All he can really think about is if going out tonight is really a good idea, anything could make him snap and hurt a civilian. His guards probably wouldn’t be able to stop him, they could barely control him when he was normal. Still, James can’t spend another night at home. He thinks too much when he’s there and everything tries to trigger a memory that just doesn’t seem to come. Taking a break might be a good idea, maybe he’d ask for twice the security, plus Clint always knew how to control a situation even without violence.

James slips away once more, going quickly to his friends’ rooms to tell them they’re going out tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james's Nana decides to come stay with the family, bringing with her quire a few questions before he heads out for a night with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally I was going to include the group at the club, but I felt like a lot happened and that the chapter was getting long, so I cut it down. Plus, I also wanted to post this on Sebastian's birthday (it's still August 13th in my time) I don't wanna say much more here so enjoy

James goes straight to his room when the family returns to the mansion. No one stops him, just as he suspected. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and suddenly the uniform just feels too tight. He quickly starts to undress, not even caring if the uniform would rip at this point; he just wants it off. He isn’t worthy of the honors. Men died on his last mission, good men that deserved to get home and see the people that loved them, unlike him. His family would have used his death to their advantage somehow, but unfortunately for them they ended up with a fucked up son that has very little clue who he is. The people likely viewed him as a killer and thus he would never rule, though he isn’t sure he wants to rule.

He looks around the room, seeing the uniform scattered about but otherwise unharmed. He glances at himself in the mirror, but instead of his own reflection he sees the wide-eyed blue eyed male staring back, but instead of having a coughing fit, the apparition smiles at him. A smile pulls at James’s lips until the man disappears and he’s left looking at himself. He turns away quickly, opting to go put on something for when he met up with the boys later. He’s still nervous about going, especially since now he’s seeing things, but sitting home wasn’t going to do his mental health any good. He gathers up the pieces of uniform, trying to stay calm as he puts it nearly away before searching through his closet.

He sifts through and settles on a pair of black jeans and a black button up. He doesn’t need anything fancy, people would still aim to please or avoid him. He isn’t sure which outcome to hope for. It would be nice to have people trying to please him, even if it was just so they could have a taste of the high life, since that’s how things used to be. Of course, he’s doesn’t want to be overwhelmed by everyone around him, he could strike out if he felt too surrounded. Sure, his father could control the media, but the King can’t control word of mouth. James vows that he will try his hardest to stay on his best behavior, even if he is planning to get shittfaced.

He puts his hands in his pockets. looking at himself in the mirror once more. The titanium arm is unnoticable like this and it makes him feel like himself once again. He almost feels normal again. He runs his flesh hand through his hair so it isn’t so formal and deems himself ready for later. He has no clue what he’s going to do until he goes to get the boys. A soft thud of a car door doesn’t give him time to think as he moves toward the window to see an elderly woman slowly getting out of the car. James can’t help but chuckle as the woman waves away assistance; she’s determined and independent, he admires that. As she heads for the door, James debates if he should do downstairs to meet her, but he remains rooted to the spot by the window.

Eventually, his feet carry him downstairs to hear his sister’s voice, “Nana, we weren’t expecting you to stop by. It’s good to see you.” James can tell she’s smiling.

“It’s good to see you too, darling. I would have let you know I was stopping by, but your parents would have had a fit. Is there a place your men can take my things?”

“Your things?”

 

“I just bought a few things for my stay, whether your parents like it or not I won’t be coming and going,” the elderly woman’s voice is filled with defiance and James loves it. Clearly this woman is his grandmother, but he can’t remember much about her. “They can’t expect to keep me away from my grandchildren--especially now.”

James rounds the corner to the foyer just as Rebecca instructs the men to put the luggage into the spare room beside her own “Hello James,” the newcomer greets him cheerfully, her kind smile fills him with joy. “I’m your Nana Peggy.”

The name seems to bring about a few fuzzy memories of a soft singing voice accompanied by piano. “Nice to see you....I’m sorry to admit that I, um, don’t really remember you,” James glances at his feet, not wanting to see the disappointment in his nana’s chocolate eyes.

He looks up when he hears a chuckle, “So dramatic. Sweetheart, I don’t expect you to know me well, especially since your parents did their best to keep me away before everything you went through. I’m also not here to force you to remember me or anything of that nature. I’m simply here to be here for you, whoever you become.”

A range of emotions go through James at a rapid pace, the biggest emotion is disbelief. Here was a woman that he barely knew and all she wanted to do was support him. His own parents didn’t do that, they didn’t care about him except when he made them look bad, and that was the only reason his mother questioned him going out tonight. James almost wants to throw himself into his nana’s arms and cry. Cry from the anger and sadness of the loss of his men, the crimes he was forced to commit, and the fact that his parents didn’t give a shit about how he was doing. Mostly, he wants to cry in relief that there’s someone other than his sister that cares and isn’t putting pressure on him to be whatever he’s supposed to be.

A soft, wrinkled hand caresses his cheek gently, causing him to jump slightly. “My apologize,” Peggy starts to withdraw her hand, but he carefully covers it with his own flesh hand to keep it in place. “You’re alright, James, you’re alright,” she whispers, gently rubbing her thumb over his cheek. He can feel moisture on her skin, only then that he realizes he’s gently wiping away a few stray tears. Before he can let himself cry more, he hears his father’s voice in his head “You will never be fit to lead when you are a weak little boy!” James’s emotions go into a frenzy as the tears halt and he tries to slow his breathing.

He can see Rebecca looking at him with wide eye, and it makes him feel exposed. His heart rate increases, sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins as the instinct to run builds within him. He’s forcing himself to stay where he is, not wanting to be rude to his nana. She was here for him, even though apparently she wasn’t welcomed by his parents, so the least he could do was be here. “Why don’t we show Nana to her room?” Rebecca suggests, surely working to relieve the attention.

“You don’t have to if it’s too much trouble,” the elderly woman adds.

“No, no, it’s no trouble,” James says quickly, letting Peggy’s hand go. He steps back and holds out an arm only to realize that she’d refused the guard’s assistance earlier, maybe this would offend her somehow.

A smile spreads across Peggy’s face as she loops her arm through his, “What a gentlemen.”

He returns the smile as he and Rebecca lead the way to the spare room. When Peggy asks questions about various decor, Rebecca answers quickly having spent too much time listening to the Queen talk about it all. James is glad the walk isn’t silent or filled with questions about himself or the experiences he’s faced. “Nana,” he asks when Peggy seems to be out of questions.

“Yes dear?”

“How long do you think you’re going to be staying with us?”

“As long as I can manage, regardless of what your parents say or do,” she says matter of factly.. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he replies quickly. He may not have a complete picture of his life, but he knows enough to know that his parents would do anything to get their way: even if it meant disposing of family.

“They’ve kept me away for much too long, and there isn’t much they can do to me,” Peggy states in a tone that makes James drop the topic. For someone of her age, she’s bolder than quite a few young men that James has met.

Rebecca opens the door before the three and reveals a beautiful cream colored room. Peggy’s trunks are resting in the corner beside the king sized bed, but other than that the room doesn’t seem to have been touched outside of routine dusting. “Will this be alright, Nana? It’ll be no trouble to go to another room.”

“This is more than enough. Your mother certainly worked to make every room a masterpiece. She gets that from me...unfortunately she doesn’t seem to have much else from me,” Peggy says the last part with a sigh. James can see some resemblance to his mother, but not much.

The Prince is about to offer to help his nana unpack when his phone starts to ring. He reaches into his pocket, hoping he can just ignore whoever is calling, but when he sees Clint’s name, he knows ignoring the man is not an option. “Would you excuse me?” James asks, and Peggy lets go of his arm so that he can retreat to his own quarters to discuss whatever Clint wanted.

“What’s up, man?” he answers the phone.

“Are we eating at the club or should I go over to Pietro’s, where Wanda has offered to cook for us?”

“Did you really call to ask me about food?”

:”Well, I also thought i would consult you on your expert fashion sense as to what to wear tonight.”

James laughs, “Shut up, you’re a soldier back from war and will be with me--the woman won’t care what you’re wearing as long as they get to take it off.”

A dramatic gasp is heard on the other end of the line, “I don’t believe a prince should be saying such things!” There’s a pause before, “Although the Prince does have a good point. Also, you should speak up, I’m guessing about a quarter of what you’re saying. But seriously, what’s the agenda?”

“Would Wanda cook enough for me?”

“If you ask me to ask her nicely.”

James glances at his watch as he says, “Well, if it isn’t too much trouble for her, I’ll meet you guys there for dinner in an hour since a home cooked meal prepared by Wanda is always great. She’s also more than welcome to join us at the club as well, so let her know.”

“Dinner at Pietro’s, one hour, and Wanda can come to her first club-slash-party ever, got it,” Clint confirms. “I better get ready then, see ya.”

“Bye,” James clicks the End button before pocketing the device. He moves to go back to help his nana unpack only to realize that he probably should have arranged to stay home longer so that he didn’t leave her so soon. Sure, Peggy seems to be an understanding woman that doesn’t expect anything from him, but he felt rude. Still, he was getting hungry and he did have an hour, well 45 minutes since it would take 15 minutes to get to Pietro’s place.

“James?” Rebecca calls softly from the other side of the door. He quickly opens it, allowing her into the room. “Mom found out Nana was here so they went to go have a talk,” his sister sighs, taking a seat on the bed.

“Should we go help Nana?”

“I was going to, but she said she could handle herself. She’s a fighter, though you don’t need memories of her to know that. You don’t have to answer, but, um, do you remember anything about her?”

“I remember her singing and playing the piano, but nothing else. I feel bad I don’t remember her more, she seems really great.”

“Don’t feel bad, she wasn’t able to be around much. Her and mom disagree a lot so she was kept away. I have no idea how Nana will find a way to stay.”

“She must have a plan,” James shrugs.

“She always seems to,” Rebecca agrees, lying back on the bed with her eyes shut. The room is silent for a few minutes. “You should do it again if you can.”

“What?”

“Oh sorry, I was in my own head. If Nana stays,you should try to play the piano while she sings.”

“I could play piano?”

“Yeah, Mom wanted you to learn and Dad inforced your learning. Something about how it was good for a future King to have a hobby or something like that. At least you were interested in learning it, you tried to teach me even. One the rare occasions Nana could visit, she would have a piece for you to play and she’d sing along. It was during those little shows that our family seemed normal,” his sister sighs with nostalgia.

“Maybe we can give it a try,’ James muses. It might be nice to connect with that part of himself again, maybe that would allow him to remember more. “Just you, me, and Nana.”

“I would like that,” his sister smiles up at him. “So, what was the call for?”

“Clint being Clint. We just arranged meeting up at Pietro’s before going out on the town. I’m gonna head out in about thirty minutes.” If his mother was upset about Peggy being there, he decided it was best to leave earlier.

“Promise you’ll be safe?”

James vaguely hears the echo of that question in his head. Rebecca had asked him to promise his safety when he went off to war. “Promise.”

“Promise you’ll call if you get into trouble?”

“Who’s the older sibling here?”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help sometimes!”

“Yeah, I’ll call you if I need to. I’ll have some guards and Clint with me so I shouldn’t have any trouble except keeping the ladies off of me.”

“Brother, I don’t want to hear about that!” Rebecca groans, covering her ears quickly. It reminds the elder sibling of when she was just a toddler and it makes him laugh. “La la la la, I can’t hear you! La la la la, I don’t wanna know about any girls that try to get with you. La la la la, can’t you just go back to-” she stops herself from finishing the sentence.

“To what?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” she tries to lie. She’s never been a good liar. As much as James wants to press the subject, if Rebecca was hiding it she had a good reason. She’d sworn up and down that she wouldn’t hide anything huge from him while he was recovering, and she isn’t one to dishonor an agreement unless it was beyond important.

“Well, regardless, I’ll try to be good,” James states, glancing at the time and the mirror once more. “You think I look alright? Is it noticeable?”

“You look great. The arm looks normal other than your hand, but no one’s really going to be looking at it in a dark night club.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“If people start bothering you, just leave, okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should try to go check on Nana before I go.”

Rebecca gets up with a nod, stepping out of the room with James behind her. “Nana?” Rebecca asks as she looks into the room. “Oh no.”

“What?” James’s heart starts to pick up speed as various terrible scenarios rush to mind. Was she sitting on the bed crying? Had she been thrown out? Had she been locked away God only knows where? He looks into the room quickly to see that her trunks are still there, less than half-way unpacked.

“They must still be arguing,” Rebecca sighs.

“Let’s go see if we can find out.”

“James, don’t,” Rebecca warns as James gently takes her by the wrist, using his flesh hand to drag her along to find out what the older women could be bickering about. He knows it’s wrong to eavesdrop, but he isn’t exactly planning to. He’s going to slowly approach to hear as much as possible before playing dumb as he announces he’s leaving. Not the best plan, he knows, but it’d do what it needed to do. Rebecca doesn’t protest along the way, so she must be just as curious and worried as he is. “Any idea where they went?” he whispers.

“Kitchen,Nana wanted a drink. Doubt they’re still in there.”

James takes the lead and directs them to head downstairs. He moves quickly and quietly, straining to hear. The nice thing about the mansion was that even when those in service to them were moving out and about, they were quiet, only bowing their head in passing. Sometimes it could get a little creepy, but most of the time it was nice especially with sudden noises freaking James out.

He vaguely makes out voices from the kitchen, so they’re still in there. “Ok,” he whispers as he halts the advance. “We take it slow, and you stay behind me as much as possible. If they hear our approach, or things get to be too much, run away as quietly as possible and I will play it off naturally.”

“Sir, yes, Sir,” she salutes, making James roll his eyes as they start moving once again. He can’t make out much of anything, but soon it turns into a few words here and there. When he’s close enough to understand everything, he stops and waits.

“Mother, as I have said, we can take care of James on our own! You have no need to be here,” his mother’s voice is strained and trying to stay composed.

“Rose,” Peggy says calmly, “no matter how many times you say that, I’m not about leave, especially since I know how you and your husband are. You can’t expect me not to see my grandchildren when something like this happens.”

“Silas is King, he can’t spend every moment tending to James to see if he can remember anything else. James is an adult who doesn’t need anyone pushing him. He can become whoever he wants to be now.”

“Can he? Or can he become what you and Silas require him to be now? I am not here to push him to be anything. I may not have been around much, but I know that you never approved-”

“It’s because of you he drank.”

Peggy gives a soft laugh, “You’re so dramatic. He may have heard I drank to escape my own problems, but you, my dear, caused those problems he needed to escape. If you recall, I tried to convince him to stop when I found out. I know you remember that night.”

There’s a silence followed by a sigh, “I do.” Queen Rose must quickly compose herself, “That’s behind him now. After he was captured he went back to war for that reason. I’m trying to protect him.”

James shoots Rebecca a questioning look, but she shakes her head. He has no idea if she’s just as confused or if she just doesn’t want to explain right now. He can’t get a read on her, which is unnerving; it’s rare he can’t tell what his sister is thinking.

“You’re trying to protect your husband’s kingdom. You’ve always put that first, before your entire family.”

“Don’t talk to me about putting family first, you always put your precious Tony before me just because his father died.”

“Rose,” Peggy’s voice has a warning tone to it that makes James tense. He should step in soon. “I never treated Tony any differently than I treated you. Howard was a great friend of mine, and he helped me take care of you after your father passed away. Howard Stark was as much of a father to you as I was a mother to Tony after he and Maria were in their accident.. I couldn’t just let Tony be on his own. Need I also remind you, he helped create the city of Shiloh? Tony has done nothing but be a brother to you, but when Silas felt threatened by him, you sent your own sister-in-law into exile?”

“We did what had to be done, and we will continue to do so.”

“Think of your son,” Peggy almost pleads. “There is nothing you can do to threaten me into leaving, and I will not go until I know both of my grandchildren are alright.”

Before his mother can say anything more, James moves into the room, walking as casually as possible, “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was going to be talking in here. I just wanted to get a water before a left.”

“It’s fine,” Rose says, but James can tell she’s irritated. She says nothing more as she moves to leave the room. James doesn’t hear her start to yell so Rebecca must have safely gotten away. James wants to ask his nana what most of that conversation meant; why had he started drinking? He knows why he drinks now, because he has to numb the pain and confusion of the past. Why had he gone back into battle?

He bites his tongue as he grabs a water from the fridge. Peggy gets up to place an empty glass into the sink, “Be safe tonight.”

“I will, Nana,” James promises. “I’m sorry you and Mom seem to have had a fight.”

“We almost always have a fight, don’t worry about it. Go have fun, be free, be yourself.”

“Ok,” James smiles and presses a quick, but gentle kiss on her cheek. “Have a goodnight, Nana.” He sees her smile widely as he turns to leave.

“Sir,” the head of his security detail greets him.

“Agent Rumlow, I hope you’re ready for a good time.”

“I’m out of practice in keeping up with you,” Rumlow states, probably trying to be funny. James gives a smile chuckle as he gets into the car, followed by the guard. James tells the driver the address and Rumlow relies the message to the men in the other two cars; two men in front, two men behind. The ride is silent, and thankfully fast; as much as James enjoys silence, this had not been a comfortable silence. He requests the men stay outside, and reluctantly they agree.

“Honey, I’m home!” James calls as he walks inside, knowing he doesn’t need to knock.

“My sister is not your honey!” Pietro shouts, making Wanda laugh from the kitchen.

“He meant me, clearly,” Clint says, leaping to his feet, with his arms wide open for a hug. “I have missed you so much, babe!”

At this point, James is struggling to breathe from laughing so hard. Leave it to his best friends to make everything alright again. Just as he’s calmed down, Clint pouts, “Baby, come give me a kiss!”

“O-o-ok-okay, I’m c-coming,” James struggles to get the words out as he continues to laugh.

“He’s really gonna do it?” Wanda asks, poking her head in.

“Nah, he wouldn’t,” Pietro says, although his voice doesn’t seem confident in the statement. Anything was possible when this group was together. James slowly moves forward, making Clint’s smile get bigger and bigger while the mischievous glint in his eyes grows brighter. They were now doing this just to mess with their silver-haired friend. Once close enough, and with extreme care, James places the metal hand on Clint’s hip as his flesh hand cups Clint’s chin. “Stop,” Pietro says, clearly tense as the two draw closer, “Stop!” he shouts, making the other two burst out laughing as they separated.

“Did that really freak you out that much?” Clint asks.

“Nah, you two are adorable together, but I don’t want to watch you do that before the lovely meal my sister prepared, and she doesn’t need to see it either.”

“I wanted to see if they’d actually go through with it.”

“If I’m seeing a real memory, we did once,” James chuckles.

“We did. I was fantastic, you were meh,” Clint winks.

“We can see if that’s changed,” James moves toward him again.

“Please, no,” Pietro groans.

“Alright boys, as interested as I am in seeing this play out, supper is going to get cold,” Wanda announces, heading back to the kitchen to grab everything. The guys give her a hand, and settle in saying a quick thanks before digging into the meal before them. Wanda had prepared meatloaf and mashed potatoes and done an amazing job. James has had plenty of amazing five-star dishes, but he feels that Wanda’s beats them all; maybe because she made the food with her love for them in mind.

Wanda was like a sister to all of them, and since most of the time she was sweet and soft spoken she was the sister that they would all have a close eye on at the club. That wasn’t to say Wanda couldn’t fend for herself. James had only seen Wanda use force once, and that was enough. He doesn’t remember the details of the situation, but he remembers Wanda had sent the poor guy away crying. She naturally felt badly afterward, but Pietro was pretty proud.

“So, now that we’re finished, can we head to the club where the lovers can get down and dirty in the dark?” Wanda teases.

“WANDA!” Pietro screams in utter horror. “My sister, my darling sister just said those words,” he mutters to himself.

“He wishes,” Clint teases as James rolls his eyes.

“I’m just messing with you, pull yourself together, brother. Let’s get going!”

“Someone is eager,” James muses as Wanda zips out the door. He can already tell that the rest of the night is going to be full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just want people to know that I've mixed Peggy with herself and the grandma from Political Animals (because TJ and his Nana is just great). I know there are gonna be a lot of questions since James is left with so many questions, but if anything is confusing please ask. 
> 
> I promise Steve will be in the story soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and the gang head to the club for a wild night in which James tries to find more of himself in alcohol and cocaine. There are plenty of twists and turns in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have to be honest in that I've never really written a party scene like this. I did as much research as I could but I feel it still might be strangely done and I apologize.

Getting to the club doesn’t take long, but for James it feels drawn out as he thinks, “You still have time. You can still turn around and go.” Of course, James doesn’t want to force his friends to find their own way there and home, and he hopes that somehow this will help him. He realizes it’s a stupid theory, but no one else had any better plans. When the car comes to a stop, Rumlow steps out first, followed by James and the gang. People are too busy trying to get in so his arrival is only noticed by a few, but it doesn’t take long for those few people to whisper or even try to fumble out their phones to snap a picture.

This felt familiar, and it’s nice. He steps up to the bouncer, who grins at him and wordlessly steps aside. No “good to see you” or “long time no see”, just a wordless welcome. It shouldn’t make him feel at home, but it does. The bouncer didn’t feel the need to give him some shit line about being back the way his parents did. All thoughts of the King and Queen leave his mind as the music draws everything else out, although he swears he hears Pietro yelling for Wanda to keep close to him. Heads turn as the Prince slowly leads his friends further inside.

James takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of eyes on him. He expected this, to get a variety of looks, he’s the Prince and the Winter Soldier after all. “There are always eyes on you,” a voice says, making him look around frantically. People were close to him, but not close enough that he could hear them perfectly. His breathing is becoming shakier, but he moves forward to try to find a place to sit. He’s likely to be a VIP here if the bouncer let him in so easily. “There’s nothing you can do that I won’t know about,” the same voice whispers, making him move faster.

James doesn’t relax until he’s on the second story of the club, it was an area reserved for VIPs, although many of them must be elsewhere as only another couple is with them. “Are you ok?” Wanda asks softly.

“I just need a bit before I go back down there,” James admits as he looks down at the crowd. A few people are looking up at him; some with surprise on their face, others whisper to people close by, but mostly the women look ready to devour him.

“How about a drink?” Pietro suggests. “I can go grab you your old usual.”

“Yeah, sure,” James says without having really listened. His heart is pounding in his ears along with the music.

“I’m going to stay up here with him, grab me something?” Clint’s voice breaks through the pounding, but James doesn’t catch Pietro’s response. Clint stands beside him a second later, looking down at the crowd, “You wanna get out of here?”

James shakes his head.

“James, you don’t have to push yourself. You can work your way back into this life if it’s what you want. I’d be fine with leaving, even with my hearing aids shut off this place is loud as Hell. It’s probably going to give me a headache. I’m not gonna protest to a quiet night at home, curled up under a blanket, and-”

“CLINT!” James shouts to be sure he’s heard.

Clint jumps slightly, “What?”

“I get your point,” James rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine, I’m just going to take this slow. I needed to be out of the mansion anyway.”

Clint simply nods as Pietro and Wanda return with the drinks. James has no idea what they brought Clint, but upon taking a drink of his own he knows it’s tequila. He wasn’t sure what he expected his usual to be, but he sure didn’t expect this. Despite having snuck drinks at home, the liquid seems to light a small fire in his throat, and it warms him with a sense of familiarity that propels him to drink faster. He doesn’t care that that might be a stupid idea, the next thing he knows the drink is gone. The heat moves throughout his body, allowing him to relax only slightly; it’ll take more than that to get him buzzed, this was just a start.

Pietro finishes his drink next, noting the empty glass in the Prince’s hand, “Another?”

“Yeah,” James shrugs, moving to head downstairs. The crowd parts for the duo slightly, allowing them easy access to the bar, where their drinks are quickly handed over. James doesn’t head back upstairs, he instead takes a seat at the bar and watches the people move about. Less people look his way now, likely over the shock at seeing him there. A few people glance his way, mainly women.

“Looks like there are plenty for the taking,” Pietro muses.

“Your sister is here!”

“I didn’t say I was going to take them home, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun here.”

“You told Wanda to keep close you and now you’re gonna chase tail?”

“She’s with Clint,” Pietro points up toward the balcony, and sure enough Wanda and Clint are standing there talking as she sips on a Long Island Iced Tea. “And who says ‘chasing tail’ nowadays?”

“Shut up,” James downs his drink just as two women break away from the crowd and head straight for him and Pietro. The hunger is evident in their eyes as they make sure to swing their hips more than normal. It almost makes James laugh, but he stays silent as the girls stand before him.

“Could you help us?” the blonde one asks.

“Anything for women as beautiful as yourselves,” Pietro replies smoothly.

“Well, we seem to be alone out there,” the black haired one giggles, “and we were hoping the sexiest men in here could join us.”

James wants to snort at this, but his body doesn’t seem to care as he stands up, taking the giggling girl’s hand in his flesh hand. She lets him lead her to the dance floor, and when he stops at a point that isn’t too crowded, she’s quick to begin moving to the music. His own body follows, but he’s not really feeling it. He tenses as one of her hands runs down his right arm, his dancing doesn’t stop. He finds himself glancing around for Pietro, but much to his dismay he can’t catch a glimpse of the silver hair. The girl steps closer to him, making his attention snap toward her. He vaguely knows what comes next and his stomach knots up slightly.

Her lips land on his softly, allowing him to taste a hint of whatever fruity drink she’d had sometime that night. Apparently, since he hadn’t protested, she takes it as a sign to kiss harder, lightly wrapping her arms around him. His stomach knots more, but he finds himself kissing back with his human hand on her waist until she pulls away to lead him to a couch in the corner. Why he isn’t stopping this, he isn’t sure; something inside him told him it was necessary. She gets him to sit down, straddling him a second later, and this time he kisses her much to his own surprise. She’s eager, making the kiss sloppy, especially when she slips her tongue into his mouth.

It’s a nice feeling, but he’s bored. James is actually sitting there thinking about if he should go get another drink when she gets out of his lap. Maybe he’ll try something different since tequila just didn’t seem right for him now. With that settled, he starts to think about how things are going this quickly, but it made sense; she wanted to be close to him for a taste of the high life. She didn’t care if he was messed up in the head, she just wanted what attention she could get. He also can’t help but think how drastically different people responded to him. This woman went in without fear, hoping to gain something, whereas the blond at the hospital had been so full of panic at the sight of him. 

James can picture the man’s face perfectly as much as he tries to push it out of mind. He had a beautiful woman in his lap, and yet he was thinking of some dude he freaked out. He hopes his distraction isn’t obvious, as he tries to kiss back as eagerly as she’s kissing him. but it must be since she stops to ask, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s been a while,” he says, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the full truth. His mind was jumbled, but he’s sure this isn’t what he wants. He can’t figure out what he wants though as he grows worried at the growing smirk on the woman’s face

“Well, I think I know something that’ll help.” She grabs her bag and digs through it before pulling out a small bag containing white powder. James instantly knows it’s Coke, and with the realization also comes the realization that he’s done it before. “What do you say?”

“Line it up,” the response comes so robotically it scares him. He should get out of here, but his body isn’t listening to him. Where the fuck is Clint?! If he was still upstairs, he should see what’s happening and come act all fatherly about James being so reckless.

“All set, cutie,” his makeout partner smiles, gesturing to the four lines on the small table.. He watches as she covers one nostril and quickly does two lines before passing the small tool to allow him to do the same. He takes a deep breath before doing just as she had. It doesn’t hurt or burn, but he can feel the substance drip down his throat a few seconds later. He passes the tool back, and settles back on the couch, letting the alcohol and coke take hold.

His partner snuggles up next to him, tucking what remained of her supply into his pocket as she waited for him to relax. It isn’t long before his heart begins to race and warmth spreads throughout his body. He gently reaches over, lifting the girl’s chin so that he can kiss her. She giggles against him, making him feel like he’s on top of the world, but that feeling fades away as she climbs into his lap. His body wants to relax, but he feels tense and trapped. He can hear the people moving around them as the music blasts through the speakers. It’s overwhelming and he suddenly doesn’t think he can breath. 

“JAMES!” The Prince jumps, pushing the girl off him, but thankfully he does this carefully enough she’s fine. James looks around before his eyes fall on a very angry-yet somehow concerned-looking Wanda.

“Shit,” the black haired girl curses before getting up and running away. Guess that was the end of that.

“James,” Wanda says again, this time much calmer, “are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer, his heart is going to fast. He can’t breathe yet he feels like he could go outside and run back home. He falls back onto the couch and Wanda quickly moves to his side at a speed that surprises him. “Oh shit, did you take something? Your pupils are huge!”

“I’m fine,” he finds himself saying as though he isn’t freaked out that he’s going to die then and there. “I’m fine,” he repeats when Wanda is silent.

“No....you aren’t,” she bites her lip, clearly nervous that she shouldn’t have said that. “Why? Why did you take something?”

“Blow, I did blow,” he says. “I like it. I think I’ve done this before. Something was wrong. I didn’t like what we were doing. I wanted to.”

“You wanted to like making out with her?”

“Kind of?” He’s unsure what he wanted to happen by doing the drug. It was insane to have hoped that it would magically cause all the piece to fall into place and make him whole again. “Something is wrong with me. My head,” he says as he brings his knees up to his chest. He feels like a frightened child, but he also seems to feel a million different other emotions.

“The problem isn’t here,” Wanda says so softly that James barely hears her as she points to his head. “It’s here,” she lightly taps his chest, right above his racing heart. He has no idea what she was trying to say to him, and he really doesn’t want to deal with the riddle right now. Focusing on something familiar would be good.

“Where are the guys?”

“Lord only knows where my brother is,” Wanda seems to shudder as she thinks of her brother. “Clint is upstairs distracting Rumlow. Your guards are not very attentive aside from him. Do you want to go back up there or stay down here a bit?”

“I need another drink,” with that he leapt to his feet and made his way to the bar as fast as he could. He ordered himself a bourbon and another Long Island Iced Tea for Wanda, who took a moment to catch up to him. He can see the concern in her brown eyes, but ignores it as he races upstairs to see Clint looking down at the dancefloor. “You should go down there,” James says once he’s at Clint’s side.

“Nah, that’s not the place for me. I’m not looking for a random makeout partner since I came here with you.”

“Are you being a mushy sweetheart again?” James lightly nudges him.

The other man laughs, “You could say that. But now I’m required to ask, what were you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“He took some Coke,” Wanda sighs, only to have to repeat herself about three times before Clint could understand.

“I’ll have to keep a hawk’s eye on you,” Clint declares.

“I don’t plan to go anywhere, except down to the bar to get another drink in a bit.” Bourbon wasn’t right for him either.

“I think you’ve had too much already,” Wanda chimes in.

“I have to agree with that,” Clint nods and a silence spreads of them. “I think I’m going to find Pietro,” Clint says after a few minutes before walking off.

“I was starting to worry I’d have to go look,” Wanda sighs in relief before looking at James. “What are you thinking?”

“That I should be down there,” he doesn’t look at her as he watches the sea of bodies. He sees Clint after a minute and watches him weave throughout the crowd until James can’t tell him apart from everyone else. He isn’t sure why he wants to be down there so much when his last experience still has him slightly shaken.

“We can go...but you have to agree to only dance with me,” Wanda offers, holding out a hand. “I don’t wanna go down there alone.”

With a smile, he takes her hand and allows her to lead him downstairs to a more open area. Dancing with Wanda is nothing like his previous experience, she keeps a short distance even though she doesn’t let go of his hand. She’s graceful, and it captivates him for a moment until she laughs and encourages him to dance as well. He does what feels natural, but he’s sure it must look incredibly awkward, though he can’t bring himself to care as Wanda smiles up at him.

James is pretty sure that if things were different; if he wasn’t the Prince or Winter Soldier, if Pietro wasn’t his best friend, and that he didn’t know Wanda like a second sister that he could have something else with her. He doesn’t know if this thought has crossed his mind before, but he knows that he wants to just have someone to be carefree with like this. A feeling of loss creeps in his chest, and he tries to shove it down as Wanda twirls in front of him. She must notice something is wrong as she comes to a halt. “We can stop if you would like,” she offers. 

James doesn’t want to stop, he was having fun. He doesn’t want the carefree feeling to slip away, but his chest continues to tighten with sadness and he can’t figure out why. His breathing becomes faster as he tries to stay standing even though it feels like the world is collapsing on top of him. Thankfully he’s got Wanda. She gently places her arms around him as he starts to fall, he buries his face in her neck even though the position is slightly uncomfortable with the height difference. If she has trouble supporting him, she doesn’t let it on as she stand steady, rubbing gentle circles on his back. He doesn’t even think she’s looking around for Clint or Pietro as he doesn’t feel movement. She simply lets him be without question.

He remains still in the embrace for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything until he feels ready to pull away. He can tell she wants to say something but isn’t allowing herself to do so; he’s actually kind of grateful she isn’t saying anything. “Could you get me a drink? Just a water?”

“Sure thing, just take a seat right here and I’ll be back,” Wanda guides him to a small booth before dashing off. He feels slightly better now that he’s sitting, but the world feels sideways. Looking around, he can’t believe no one else is experiencing this sensation, but no one else is like him. Someone does catch his eye as he looks around though, unfortunately that person is heading his eye. The red head moves toward him, her entire demeanor screams that she’s on a mission: a mission to get to him. It isn’t in the way the women that had approached Pietro and him at the bar, this was different.

He could try to run away from her, but he gets the feeling that even in the high heels, this woman would catch him with ease. Her eyes are locked on her target, he doesn’t stand a chance. He isn’t sure if he wants Wanda to come back or if he wants to face the on-comer on his own. The next thing he knows, the woman is sitting across from him, looking him over with faded forest green eyes. “Hey there,” she smiles at him as though he’s an old friend.

He doesn’t know what to say and just gives her an awkward nod.

“Natasha Romanoff. I already know who you are.”

“Figured,” he says, trying not to panic.

“I can see your confusion, so I’ll get to the point:you don’t belong here,” she tells him simply.

“And where do I belong? Your bedroom?” He wasn’t going to lie, she was beautiful but he got the feeling that she wasn’t someone he should sleep with. Ever.

Natasha smirks, “No. You belong where you can get answers.”

“I don’t get answers in my own house, there is no where else for me to go,” James tries to keep his voice steady. What was keeping Wanda?

“You’re curious though,” Natasha smiles as she reads him like a book. “Home doesn’t feel like home. You’ve felt wrong since you came in here.” That was true, but being a prince couldn’t be normal and now he was doing drugs, that would make anyone feel wrong. “I think there’s somewhere that you should go. At least once.”

James can’t believe he’s considering going, maybe it was the cocaine and alcohol in his system, but soon enough he’s nodding. “Excellent, now I need you to follow my lead to ditch your guards. Can you trust me?’

“Not really.” He only trusts a select few people, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell them he’s leaving. Clint and Wanda would kill him later on; Pietro would either join them or ask James if he got some.

“I’ll take what I can get. Keep your head down,” Natasha stands and James follows suit, allowing her to loop an arm with his as he looks down at the floor. She moves them quickly into a bathroom and into a stall, forcing them to be close together. “Relax,” she whispers while digging in her bag. “Change into this,” she holds out a deep red shirt and navy blue hoodie. Slowly, he takes the items and she looks away.

As he changes quickly James constantly questions himself. Natasha could be part of Hydra and was sent to bring him back. Natasha could be some sort of test from his father, James wouldn’t be surprised if Silas did such a thing. Natasha might be a fake name. What the hell is he doing? He should run out, find his friends and go home, but he gets the feeling that things would start to make sense if he followed her. “Ok,” he announces.

Natasha takes his black button down and stuffs it into the bag before placing a navy blue cap on his head. “Alright, now we’re set.” she announces before peaking out the stall door. “Head down,” she reminds him and takes his flesh hand to lead him along. He realizes they’re headed for the back door, but he still jumps at the creaking of the heavy door and the cold air hitting his face. “My car is a block away,” she explains and quickens the pace.

The Prince’s heartbeat seems to change into a chant of go back, go back, go back, Natasha lets go of his hand and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or more nervous by that fact. She pulls out a set of keys and opens the door to a silver Pontiac Grand Am. “Deep breath, it’s about a twenty minute drive. We’re going to be on the edge of the capital going into a small house. I will leave the car doors unlocked the entire drive, but I have to insist you buckle up for safety. Oh, and I keep a gun in the glove compartment,” she explains as she climbs into the driver seat.

James glances around before getting into the car, which promptly starts and causes the radio to blast out some song about loving you like a black widow. James doesn’t find out what that means as he quickly hits the off button to stop the loud noise. “Sorry, I tend to have loud music,” Natasha says as she pulls away from the curb.

The two fall into a silence that lasts a few minutes until the phone in James’s pocket vibrates with a message from Wanda, “James, where did you go?!”

“Sorry. had to get out”

“Rumlow pissed. All of us worried. Pietro asking me if you are with a girl.”

“Kind of”

“WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A TALK LATER!”

“I know. Sorry. Be in touch.”

“I take it your friends are worried?” Natasha asks as James puts the phone away. “They’ll calm down later I’m sure.”

“You don’t know my friends.”

“We’ll see,” Natasha says before they fall back into a slightly awkward silence, but James would rather have this than having to force himself to talk. Natasha doesn’t push him into talking, and the next time she speaks is about fifteen minutes later to say, “We’re here,” as she turned into a driveway.

Once she’s parked, James steps out and looks at the small tan house that had some damage in various places. He doesn’t get much chance to take a look at the building as Natasha is moving inside. She stops in front of the door and turns to face him, “I wasn’t expecting him to be here....one of my roommates probably isn’t going to be pleased I brought you here, but I can take care of him. I’m on your side with this, while actually I’m doing this for-well, you’ll see.”

James doesn’t get a chance to ask any of the questions going through his head as she opens the door and steps inside, holding the door open for him. His heartbeat seems to be screaming GOBACKGOBACKGOBACK, but he’d come this far. He couldn’t end this mission here. His shows stay on so that he can make a run for it if he needs to, and Natasha doesn’t say anything about it as she walks in front of him.

“Nat, that you?” a male voice calls.

James notes her hesitation as she calls back. “Hey Sam, thought you were taking a late shift?”

“My appointment got cancelled,” Sam calls back.

“He won’t hurt you, if you feel the need to fight: do not act on it,” Natasha whispers as they move forward. When they come to the end of the small entryway hall, they’re standing in a small, slightly messy, living room where a muscular man sits on the couch, sipping some orange juice.

The man’s eyes go wide before he sets his glass on a coaster on the end table. Sam is trying to compose his emotions, James can tell by the way Sam’s muscles tense and relax; James has done that many times before. “Natasha, what the hell?”

“Sam-”

“What are you thinking?! He asked you not to get involved because of what he can do?” Sam is trying to keep his voice down as he speaks. James doesn’t blame Sam for wanting him out of here, The Winter Soldier was capable of just about anything. “Get him out of here.”

“Sam, you thought the same thing when you heard he was at the club. Just let him see-”

“No.”

“Sam, it isn’t your choice-”

“It isn’t yours either. He asked you not to get involved.”

“Where is he?” Natasha looks around as though it’s just now occurring to her that whoever ‘he’ is isn’t present.

“He was having a rough night after this morning so he went to lie down about an hour ago, he was asleep twenty minutes ago when I went to check on him. Now is not the time for him to be here. Nat, just get him out of here, please,” Sam seems desperate now, the anger gone from his face. James doesn’t know what to make of it.

“He’ll be quiet, the man was trained for stealth,” Natasha looks back at James before looking at Sam again. “Just once, for their sake.”

Sam groans, rubbing his face with his hand. “Just once and Sarah never finds out about this.”

“I’m not about to tell her, but you know she has a way of finding these things out.”

Sam looks to James for the first time and speaks with a stern voice, “Don’t wake him.”

All James can do is nod.. He came here in an attempt to get answers, but so far all he has are more questions. No one waits for him to ask as Natasha gestures for him to follow her down a hallway. “Don’t wake him,” Natasha says as they stand in front of one of the doors. “I’ll be right outside this door, ready for anything.” With that, she opens the door and lightly places a hand on James’s lower back to get him to move forward. When he’s far enough in, the door closes enough so that only a small crack is open.

James stares at the small opening and can’t help but feel as though Natasha is trusting him too much with whoever is in this room. With that in mind, he turns slowly, taking in the plain white wall with a drawing taped up here and there. He steps closer to get a better look, and even in the dark he can tell the art is detailed no matter what the subject matter is. He’d like to get a better look, but now is not the time; it’s dark and he’s supposed to see whoever the room belongs too.

Taking a deep breath, James notes only then that making out the other person’s breathing is difficult. He braces himself, turning around and slowly moving to the bed where he can see the outline of a figure lying on their side. As he moves closer, he gently moves the desk chair toward the bed since something tells him he’s going to want to sit down. Once close enough, he settles into the chair and studies what he can make out of the tiny figure under the sheets. He can see the slow rise and fall of the shoulders while the person breathes, each breath seems to shake or even catch in their throat.

Light colored hair can be made out in the dark, and James frowns slightly when he realizes the person has their back to him. As if the sleeping male knew James needed to see his face, he rolls over, breathing shaking even more at the effort. All air in James’s lungs seems to halt as he gets a good look at the sleeping man. It couldn’t be. This had to be some sort of drug induced dream. He’s bound to be passed out in the club and this was a dream. There was no way that this was the same person who had the asthma attack in the hospital earlier that day. Was that really just this morning? That must be impossible.

James can’t look away from the tiny, peaceful man. Clearly they’re connected somehow, Natasha had wanted James to see him for a reason. James is trying to think of something--anything---about the person sleeping before him, but he can’t. All he can do is stare. The blond man’s face seems to scrunch up and James stiffens, hoping the other won’t wake up, but at the same time he’s ready to do anything to help. A soft groan escapes the man on the bed, and James thinks he might be having a nightmare as the whining gets worse until a soft sort of sigh is let out. James feels himself relax as the other man relaxes too, a soft mumbling coming from him.

James leans in, trying to hear what’s being said but all he can hear is one word, “Bucky.”

James snaps bolt upright and stares down the figure on the bed. He clutches his head in his hands as emotions flood him along with blurry memories, the only thing he can understand from any of them is a name. “Steve,” he whispers, almost in tears as he sits there. He can’t remember anything about Steve, but based on the reaction he’s having, he knows they were close. At the club, he’d felt ready to collapse, but now he feels as if he could fly even without every piece of the puzzle. He’s no longer James, the man ready to give up on finding himself; he’s Bucky. Bucky, who finally felt a real reason to get his memories back, although he’d probably have to work things over with Sam before he could even do anything more. Regardless, he felt like a whole new man: Bucky. He likes it.

“There’s nothing you can do that I won’t know about,” a voice whispers in the back of his mind and it finally clicks: the voice belongs to King Silas.

No, his father could never know about this, even if whatever Steve had been to Bucky in the past was never going to happen again. No, Steve had to be protected from the cruelty of Silas and even Rose. Bucky thinks of what Peggy said to his mother, “Tony has done nothing but be a brother to you, but when Silas felt threatened by him, you sent your own sister-in-law into exile?”

“We did what had to be done, and we will continue to do so.” his mother had replied.

Maybe that was what Sam had meant by “He asked you not to get involved because of what he can do.” It wasn’t unusual for people to think the King cruel, and Sam probably knew that if Silas didn’t like this, he would do anything to stop it.

Bucky wasn’t going to allow it. Right now, even without knowing anything more than a name, the urge to protect Steve overcame all else, including Bucky’s own fear of his father. He looks at Steve, whose small frame just screamed, I am small and fragile: handle with care! 

He decides he has to stay away, even if it meant not getting the answers. He’d have to find another way. Slowly, he gives into the eager to reach out to Steve, and much to his own surprise he uses his metal hand to lightly cup Steve’s cheek. A soft smile pulls at the sleeping face, and Bucky tries to smile too as he soaks this moment in. One day he hopes to find out why this means so much to him, but for now all he can do is make himself cling to the experience. He can’t feel Steve’s skin, but somehow that makes leaving easier.

Bucky carefully removes his metal hand and stands, legs shaking as if trying to get him to stay. He places the chair in its place and moves to the door, taking one last look at Steve wrapped up in his blankets. Bucky forces himself to walk out the door and into the living room. “He can never know,” he says before Sam or Natasha can speak. “Steve can’t know you brought me here. I don’t know everything, but I can’t risk my father knowing anything. I don’t want him to get hurt. Just get me to a hotel and I can make something up from there...and please, don’t try and stop me. I have to stay away.”

He doesn’t look at Natasha or Sam’s faces to see their reactions, he turns away from them quickly, pulling the cap down to cover more of his face as he moves toward the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the emotional roller-coaster, please don't hate me!  
> As always, if you have any questions (or just comments in general since I love reactions!) please comment. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, college life is busy, but I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry if this chapter comes off weird, I'm still getting used to writing a character using crack...

Both Natasha and Sam follow Bucky outside, arguing with each other about letting Bucky go. “Sam, don’t do this!” Natasha shouts as Sam heads to the car.

“I’m doing what I have to do,” Sam says calmly before getting into the driver’s seat. The engine of the car comes to life and the two are leaving, Bucky looks at the house as long as he can. He wonders if this is a mistake, but he knows it isn’t. Silas would never allow Bucky to even talk to someone like Steve and from what Bucky had gathered they were very close. How close, he has no idea, but it doesn’t matter, the urge to protect the fragile looking man was enough to make the Prince leave.

“You’re doing a good thing,” Sam says quietly, trying to comfort Bucky. Unfortunately, the other man’s words just seem to make things worse. It makes Bucky feel guilty for leaving. The flood of emotions he felt when he remembered Steve’s name meant that Steve likely felt the same before the war, and Steve was left remembering.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Bucky mutters.

“Nat and I will take good care of him,” Sam assures and Bucky believes him. He glances over at Sam, taking in his muscular figure and even in the darkness, Bucky can somehow see the caring and determined glow in his eyes. Bucky trusts Sam with this.

“I have one question.”

“Just one?” Sam chuckles

“I’m only allowing myself one question,” Bucky explains. He has about 150 questions he wants to ask, about 10 that really matter, and he made the tough decision to ask just one.

“Alright.”

“How sick is he?”

Sam sighs, “Steve’s got a lot of issues: asthma, scoliosis, a heart arrhythmia, stomach ulcers, anemia, flat feet, and he’s partially deaf. His mom, Nat, and I have been working to pay rent as well as for all of Steve’s treatments....we’re trying to see if surgery is an option to help at least one or two of the issues, but we’re all worried he wouldn’t handle any of it. We’re doing our best to get through.”

“The new healthcare...it hasn’t helped?”

“It’s definitely made his mother work harder. She’s a nurse and because the hospitals are so full now she’s almost never home. Medicine is a bit cheaper so It’s helped us get some cash, but it’s wearing her down to work so hard.”

Bucky gives a small nod, unsure what to say. He wants to help, to give them the cash to allow Steve’s mother to rest, or to get surgery done if they think it’s possible. There was more than enough in the royal treasury, but someone was bound to notice if he spent that much. If he remembers right, his uncle Tony runs the treasury for his father. Maybe he could convince Tony to hide what the expense is for. Still, could he risk the money tracing back to him?

He thinks things over until Sam brings the car to a stop. “You sure you want to do this?” Sam asks softly.

“We both know I have to,” Bucky says without looking at him. “You don’t have to give me a chance to change my mind when you don’t want me to.”

“I’ve got nothing against you man, I’m just looking out for my family.”

“Take care of them,” Bucky says as he get out of the car, not giving Sam a chance to say anything else. The car speeds off as he heads inside the hotel, a place he’s been known to stay at regularly according to the press he’d read about himself. He heads for the front desk and the worker greets him politely before handing him a key to a room without question. He isn’t sure what room to go to, but he imagines it’s the penthouse on the top floor so he moves to the elevator. Being the Prince opened many doors for him, but he also felt as though it closed even more.

People would do anything to please him, or rather his father, which allowed Bucky to do just about anything he pleased. At the same time,he had to be mindful of every little twitch the media would try to twist only for his father to put everything in order. People did not respect the King, they feared him even if they didn’t know just how much he was capable of. 

“Tony has done nothing but be a brother to you, but when Silas felt threatened by him, you sent your own sister-in-law into exile?” The voice of his nana rings in his mind. Bucky doesn’t know the full extent of his father’s wrath, not really. He’s been scolded a few times, but he’s confident it can be so much worse than that. He’s never dared ask Rebecca questions about their father, but maybe he should. He has a lot to figure out, but his body is urging him to sleep. He flops onto the bed only for the small baggy of cocaine to fly out beside him.

He stares at the white powder and considers things for a moment. Doing coke at the club had been exciting, but scary. There’d been so many people and so much noise, but here it was just him. He could do anything, right? The drug could give him a boost just enough to sort through a problem or two, right? He shouldn’t, he knows deep down that he shouldn’t, but his fingers twitch out for the bag. It’s strange how the next thing he knows, there’s two lines in front of him, not quite as neat as the girl in the club had made them, but not terribly messed up.

“Last chance to stop,” he mutters to himself, but he’s already pinching a nostril and leaning over a line. The powder causes a slight burn once again, and leaves a grainy feeling that he sorts out with a few sniffs. “You’re an idiot,” he tells himself as he puts the bag away and pulls of his coat. He heads to the desk in the room and sits down to think. His first mystery should be his father, and with that thought his heart begins to race, or maybe the drugs were causing the increase, or both. Regardless, if he could know more about his father, and maybe even his mother, that might help him approach the things with Steve.

Bucky wishes Steve was here. It’s crazy, but he thinks the little guy could help keep him calm or answer some questions. Bucky stares at his metal hand, recalling how it had touched Steve not long ago. It makes him smile, but he also wishes he’d felt that last moment. Still, a monster did not deserve to be near let alone touch something so fragile. Monster, I am a monster, Bucky thinks to himself, his metal hand curling into a fist. Monster, that destroys everything.. He stands up, throwing the chair across the room with a sort of battle cry. Only then does he stop to breath, looking at the chair and then his arm.

He can’t lost control like this, the drugs were a mistake. Still, he feels alive. It feels good to be alive when he knows he should be dead or locked away in prison. He’s alive, but a monster, and despite the outburst he now stands here smiling. He went through hell, surely he can handle his father. He’d ask his sister questions he never thought to ask until now. He’d learn more from his nana, and maybe she’d take him to see Tony. Once he knew enough about Tony, maybe he’d get help with Steve. It was beyond that that was still a mystery.

He’s got to figure out more of who Steve is and who Steve is to him, but it isn’t like he can ask his family. He’s guessing Steve is a secret, especially since Sam was worried about the King knowing that Bucky had been there. It’s then that Bucky wonders if anyone had seen him leave with Natasha and followed him. Anyone could have seen him there and followed up by questioning Sam, Nat, Steve’s mom, or even Steve himself. Bucky invisions how he’d seen Steve have his asthma attack at the hospital, he saw his...whatever Bucky was to him, and either panicked because Bucky is a monster, panicked because the KIng is a monster, or was surprised. Regardless, Steve probably wouldn’t be able to handle being mobbed by the press. 

Bucky feels panic rising in his chest. What would happen if that household was questioned? Would Steve learn Bucky was there and left him? Would the press overwhelm the family and cause health issues? Would Sam fight the media off and thus be sent to jail? Bucky shouldn’t have gone. Natasha had told him he would get answers, but he has more questions than before and all he can think about is that his heart feels ready to ram out of his chest. His lungs might explode too. He’s going to die, and the royal family would have to figure out how to explain that their son died from using cocaine. He hadn’t taken that much, had he? This couldn’t kill him, right?

He has no idea, and it scares him to death. Still, he likes the rush. It’s crazy, but he does. He feels as though he can do anything. Deep down he knows he’d be caught doing anything and that his father would punish him, but he wants to do something. He could probably get some people to come over and party, Pietro would likely show at least. He sure as hell knows Clint and Wanda would come just to strangle him. He can’t call them like this. They can’t know he did this. They can’t even know about Steve. He trusts them with his life, but he still doesn’t want to risk them knowing. For all he knows, his father could punish them for hiding his secret.

Bucky cannot risk any of them. Still, how is he going to hide such a thing from them? From his sister? How could he explain the situation about wanting money to his mysterious Uncle Tony? How would he tell Nana Peggy that he wanted to go see his uncle without telling her he eavesdropped? How was he going to stop his heart from bursting out of his chest? The pounding is loud in his ears and the pain in his chest feels unbearable. Is this all in his head? His breathing speeds up as he begins to panic. He fumbles backwards toward the bed and sits, running his hands through his hair. the cool metal feels nice against his skin as the room starts to feel warmer.

He shifts off his shirt, glancing down at his scarred skin. Memories of doctors standing above him and soldiers fighting against him flash through his memory. He wants to scream, but something holds him back, probably the lack of air in his lungs. He curls into the fetal position and holds himself, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t want to be the monster he is.

The next thing Bucky knows, the sun is coming up. He doesn’t know if he slept or spent the entire night staring out the large window. His head is pounding and his throat feels made of cotton. Slowly, he forces himself to sit up, only to quickly rush to the bathroom to empty what little bit of contents is in his stomach. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to drink so much at once or to do the drugs. He’d felt so free last night, but now he’d crash landed. He waits a moment before moving again, feeling off balance as he momentarily forgets the extra weight on his left side.

Glancing at himself in the mirror he discovers he looks as bad as he feels. His hair is every which way while his eyes are bloodshot and accented by dark circles. Death would probably be jealous of how hideous he looks right now. He can taste and smell vomit, but he decides to try finding a little something to consume before brushing his teeth..He sighs to himself and rummages around the hotel room to find something to make him feel better. He decides to start off with a glass of water, sipping it slowly. As he does, he realizes he needs a cover story for what happened last night.

Rumlow, being the diligent guard he is, likely contacted his father as soon as he figured out Bucky had disappeared. Thinking about it now, Bucky isn’t sure why Rumlow wouldn’t think to search here, or perhaps the guard had come to know that when Bucky disappeared it was for sex like the papers always reported? He figures he’ll find out when he gets home. He can say he slipped off with a girl only to ditch her to come here. If anyone got word of Sam dropping him off he could say Sam was the girl’s brother of boyfriend or pimp or something. That’s all he can think of saying, and it’s probably a very poor lie.

If he’s going to get money to help Steve and Steve’s family, he’s got to get better at this.

One step at a time, he tries to tell himself. That’s easier said than done. He’s got to think of every possibility of everything he’s going to do. He needs a solid battle plan before he returns to the palace. If he’s lucky, Silas will be much too busy to deal with him and his mother won’t care enough to do anything. Rebecca might be the only one to dig deep enough to get to the truth and lying to her was going to be the hardest. She’d been nothing but considerate of him since he returned from war. He vaguely remembers her urging him not to go back once he’d regained knowledge of what Hydra did to him, but the memory feels foggy. It’s for her own safety, Bucky tries to tell himself, but he can’t justify it in his head.

Maybe he’s getting too far ahead of himself. Perhaps Steve wasn’t as important as Bucky felt he was; maybe Bucky felt this way because he wants to hope for something to make him back into who he used to be. Even if that is the case, Bucky can’t just turn away from someone so ill. He could tell Rebecca about it and she’d push through with her health care plan. Sam said the plan made things cheaper, but if Rebecca took an interest in a patient, she could push for that individual to get just about anything. Rebecca did seem to be the favorite of the King and Queen, although why would they want the monster to be their crown jewel?

If he tells Rebecca some version of the truth, it was still a risk, but he doesn’t want to lie to Rebecca if she asks him. Lying would only hurt her, and that’s one of the last thing Bucky wants. With a sigh, he decides that if she asks him anything about last night, he will be honest to an extent. He can say he went with a girl out of the club, but she just wanted his help with her friend, which wasn’t a complete lie. Natasha had taken him out of the club to help him get answers and to possibly help Steve. He could easily say that he left to come to the hotel to think it over, which is exactly what he’s doing now.

A soft vibration cuts his thoughts short as he instinctively reaches for his phone, seeing Rumlow’s name on screen makes his heart stop for a brief second. “Yeah?” he answers.

“Your father wants you home. The car is waiting for you downstairs,” Rumlow says flatly.

“Be down in a bit,” Bucky sighs before hanging up to gather his things. He wants to delay going home so he has time to think more, but he can’t. He’s out of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if there was any confusion reading this chapter so I can correct any errors (please be kind).  
> Just to be sure, the poor guy having the asthma attack is Steve.  
> Other than that, I don't have anything else to say except feed back is always appreciated and I will do my best to put up the next chapter soon!


End file.
